


Slow Slide (get out) to a Better Place

by Nahiel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Ginny, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape Recovery, abuse recovery, also don't read for ron/hermione, comfort comes in chapters two and three, do not read this for harry/ginny, lots of hurt in the first chapter with no comfort, their relationship is good though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-02-28 16:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13275069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nahiel/pseuds/Nahiel
Summary: Harry told himself that everything was fine in his relationship with Ginny, at least until he couldn't lie to himself anymore.  And by then, he thought it might be too late.  Fortunately, he has two very good friends who will always be there for him, one of whom might eventually be something more.





	1. Slow Slide

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter contains the worst of this story, and depicts, as the title might suggest, a slow slide into an abusive relationship. There is physical violence, manipulation, and rape within this chapter. If you can make it through this, I swear to you that things get better in the next chapter, which will post next week.

It started after a night spent drinking with friends, after solving one of the worst cases in Auror history. Well. Worst cases being relative, of course, given that Dark Lords were still a thing. Well. Had been a thing. And… well, maybe it had started before that. It was hard to tell, sometimes, when everything went truly bad.

Harry was just a little drunk when he came home that night, and just a bit more stumbly than he normally would have been. He was just a little bit slower, too, which was why he was actually surprised when Ginny flicked on the lights in their living room with a scowl. She was wearing her pajamas, her legs curled up under her, and she was glaring at Harry.

“Where have you been?” she asked, her voice every bit as frosty as it had been the time that he’d tried to tell her that he didn’t want to see her anymore. That had been a terrible argument, but it was one that, looking back, he was glad he’d lost.

He loved Ginny, more than he’d ever loved anyone else. He told himself that every morning and every night, because sometimes he was worried that he would forget. “I was out drinking with the other Aurors,” Harry said honestly. He went to sit next to her on the couch, but as soon as he’d settled, she was up and pacing. “Ginny,” he started.

She whirled around to glare at him. “You didn’t think to send me a note?” she asked, her voice sharp. “Because, Harry, I was very worried about you. What if something had happened to you?”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, to say that he was fine, he was always fine, but she shook her head sharply. “They were saying on the wireless that an Auror was killed in that raid!” Her voice went shrill at the end, and when she turned her back on him, her shoulders were shaking. “Harry, I thought—” She broke off, clearly unable to continue.

Harry froze, guilt spiking inside of him. He stood and crossed the room to hover behind her, his hands hovering over her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, earnestly. “Ginny, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that was what the wireless was reporting. It wasn’t true, I promise.”

Ginny turned into him and flung herself into his arms, her sobs increasing rapidly. “I just… I was so worried, and then you weren’t home when you were supposed to be, and to find out that you were just out drinking?” She punched him in the shoulder, the blow a little harder than Harry would have appreciated, but he supposed he sort of deserved it.

He’d made her cry, after all, which had never been his intention. “I’m sorry,” he said again. He ran his hands carefully down her back, trying to soothe her, and eventually her tears subsided. “I’ll make sure to send a note next time.”

There was a moment of silence from Ginny, and then, quietly, she asked, “So you’re still planning to go out with them again?” There was something in her voice, something tired and defeated.

“I…” Harry stopped. “They’re friends from work. You could come if you want?” He didn’t know what she wanted him to say. Was this how relationships worked? Was he not supposed to go out without her? But… but how was he supposed to make friends with his co-workers if he didn’t go out with them? It wasn’t like there was time to talk while they were working, most of the time.

“What, while all of you talk about things that I couldn't possibly understand since I’m not an Auror?” Ginny backed up a step, her eyes narrowing. “Thanks, Harry, for the incredibly generous offer. But I would rather not. I just want you to come home after work! I miss you, you know that.”

Harry hesitated. “I’ll think about it,” he said finally. “But I’ll definitely let you know when something like this happens that I’m okay. I promise.”

Ginny gave a haughty little sniff, but her face softened into something of a smile, and Harry thought that maybe the conversation was over.

ooOOooOOoo

Three days later, when his fellow new Aurors went out for drinks to celebrate the busting of an illegal potions ring, Harry thought about going with them. Then he thought about Ginny, sitting up, waiting for him in her pajamas, and decided to go home. They would have a private celebration, the two of them, and that would be good enough.

ooOOooOOoo

A month after that, Ron got injured during a case, falling and twisting his ankle badly enough that he wasn’t going to be able to walk for a few days, even with magical healing. Because they were in the middle of a critical case involving the smuggling of dragons, Harry was assigned an interim partner in the form of one Cho Chang.

She’d grown up since they’d gone to Hogwarts together, and Harry had as well. Things were a bit awkward on the first day due to their shared, brief romantic past, but they moved past it and managed to to find an amicable way to work together. By the end of the day, Harry was honestly almost happier with Cho as a partner than Ron.

Not that he would ever say anything like that to Ron, of course. It was just that Cho was… well, she was a bit less likely to trip over her own two feet while getting into the elevator. And… and it helped that Harry didn’t feel any lingering attraction to her, unlike… That didn’t matter, though. The point was, he wasn’t entirely sure that being an Auror was really a good fit for Ron.

When he got home for dinner that evening, though, once he’d cooked it and settled in with Ginny, she asked, “So, how does it feel to be stuck riding a desk for the next couple of days while Ron’s ankle rests up?”

Harry blinked at her. “What do you mean, riding a desk? They gave me an interim partner, because reassigning my case would be a terrible idea. There are too many nuances to risk it, not to mention that my informants trust me.”

“Oh.” Her temper visibly rising, Ginny asked, “And who is this interim partner that they assigned to you?”

Harry hesitated. “Just another Auror,” he hedged, because he didn’t want to have an argument with Ginny about this. “One whose partner is also out on medical leave for the next few weeks. Of course, I’ll have Ron back in a day or two, but until then…”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “You must think I’m a real idiot,” she hissed at him. “It’s a girl, isn’t it, this new partner? That’s why you don’t want to tell me about her.” She looked away, her lips forming into a pout. “Is she prettier than me? Do you like her more than me?”

“Not even a little bit,” Harry said honestly. “Going out with her that one time in fifth year was a disaster, wasn’t it?” And then he winced, because he was pretty sure that he’d just made a fatal mistake.

“Chang?” Ginny shrieked. “Harry, are you telling me that you’ve been assigned that little hussy as your interim partner and you weren’t even going to tell me about it? What’s the matter with you?”

“I didn’t want you to stress out about it!” Harry protested. “It’s just work, it’s not like we’re friends or anything like that. And I have to have a partner; it’s dangerous for me to go out and question people without some kind of backup.”

“You have to have a partner and that partner has to be Chang?” Ginny scoffed. “Please. You’re Harry Potter. If you tell whoever’s running the damn department that you don’t want to work with Chang, they’re not going to make you.”

Harry squirmed, uncomfortable with the idea. “You know that I don’t like to use my name like that,” he muttered.

“Oh, so you’ll use your name to benefit yourself, but when it comes to not stressing out your girlfriend, then you won’t?” Ginny shook her head. “You know, Harry, sometimes you can be really selfish. And I don’t know that I want to stay with someone as selfish as you.”

Harry flinched. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. He hadn’t meant to upset her that much, in fact, that had been what he was trying to avoid. Apparently that hadn’t worked at all, though. He looked down at his plate, his appetite long gone. “I’ll… I’ll talk to Head Auror Robards about switching interim partners, or maybe getting my cases reassigned to someone else until Ron gets back from leave.”

Ginny nodded along with his words and gradually relaxed. “Good then.” She lifted her fork and took a bite of the roast Harry had prepared. “This is excellent, dear,” she said.

Harry smiled at the words, although he knew he wouldn’t be eating that night. Not if he didn’t want to get sick later. “Thank you,” he said honestly. It was nice to be appreciated.

ooOOooOOoo

The next day, ears ringing from the lecture Robards had given him about not using his fame to placate an insecure girlfriend, Harry left work early and headed over to Ron and Hermione’s house. Ron was on the couch, watching some sitcom or another, completely engrossed in the show. He turned it off when Harry came in.

“I can’t wait for you to come back to work,” Harry said honestly. He collapsed on the couch next to Ron. “Maybe then I won’t have to do paperwork anymore for a while.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed. “I thought Robards was giving you an interim partner for the dragon case? Wasn’t that what we talked about?”

“Until it was Cho,” Harry agreed. “Then Ginny lost her temper, and then it was just… easier to do it this way.”

“Right,” Ron said, drawing out the word. “Easier. Harry, mate, are you… you’re okay, right?”

Harry blinked. “Yes?” Why wouldn’t he be? Ginny was just nervous about him being around one of his exes; it was fine.

“Okay,” Ron said. He stared at Harry hard for a long minute. “Just… if you’re ever… not. If you’re ever not, you know that you can come to Hermione and I, right?”

The offer, while Harry was sure it was kindly meant, almost broke Harry’s heart. Because he… he… Ron… And Hermione would be so…

No. No, he wasn’t burdening them with himself. “Thanks,” he said quietly, with no intention of ever taking him up on that. It would be too painful for him, and would probably spell disaster for his friendship with them.

He wouldn’t need to. Everything was fine.

ooOOooOOoo

Long after Ron had returned to work, after Ginny and Harry had celebrated their one year anniversary after the defeat of Voldemort, Ginny was lying in bed with Harry one night, her hand tracing idly over his chest. They’d just made love, and she was feeling more romantic than she normally did.

Harry’s skin, on the other hand, was crawling, and he didn’t know why. He’d been ready. He’d enjoyed himself. That he hadn’t felt ready when she’d been was his failing, not hers. And, as he’d already said, he’d enjoyed it. So why did he feel like he wanted to cry?

He hadn’t known that first times made people feel that way, but maybe that was normal. What did he know about sex and how it worked?

“What do you think about children?” Ginny asked idly, still stroking a hand over Harry’s chest. “A little boy or girl with your eyes and my hair, because yours would be a disaster?”

Harry’s heart rate spiked, and he closed his eyes to try and bring it down, to hope that she hadn’t felt it. “I don’t know about that,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how interested I am in being a father.”

Ginny looked up at him. “Why not?” she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice. She didn’t seem angry or upset, and that was definitely a relief. She’d been so upset when she’d thought that Harry didn’t want to sleep with her, because she’d thought that meant Harry found her undesirable.

It hadn’t been that at all. And this wasn’t something that was wrong with Ginny, either. “Because of the way I was raised,” he said honestly. “I’m afraid that, if I were to be a parent, I would do it all wrong. I would mess it up, and I might do some kind of damage to the child without even knowing it.”

“That makes sense,” Ginny said. She laughed little. “You are a bit helpless, emotionally speaking. Imagine not knowing to take advantage when your girlfriend is ready for sex!” Her laugh turned into a full blown giggle fit, and while Harry was pleased that he could make her happy, it hurt. It felt like she was mocking him.

He pushed her off of him, gently, and sat up, his shoulders hunching over. “I’m doing my best,” he whispered, and hated the fact that his voice was choked up as he said it. “I try as hard as I can, Ginny.”

“Oh, babe, I didn’t mean it like that.” She sat up behind him, he could feel the bed shifting ,and then her hands landed on his shoulders. She rubbed them gently, trying to soothe him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should know better than to joke about the things you’re too sensitive about.”

Was he being too sensitive? Of course he was. He always was. “No, I’m sorry,” Harry said, turning in her embrace. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like it was your fault or something. I know that you would never deliberately upset me.”

“Of course I wouldn’t, darling.” Ginny smiled at him, the expression gentle. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you, huh? I promise, I’ll make you forget all about this little tiff.”

Harry didn’t protest, although he wasn’t particularly interested in the way that her hand slid between his legs, touching him, teasing him into hardness. It wasn’t something he wanted, and the first time had been overwhelming at best. This just…

He was tired, he was sore, and he wanted it to be over. He came for her, and that seemed to satisfy her, but as she went to sleep, tucked against his side, Harry couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with him. Why didn’t he want to sleep with his girlfriend the way that most men would?

Why did it make him feel sick, the way that she’d touched him? He’d gotten off, and wasn’t that the whole point of sex? It wasn’t like she’d raped him or anything, she’d just… had to talk him into it, which was weird, he knew.

Maybe it was just one more way in which Harry was different from everyone else.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry went out for dinner with just Ron and Hermione after his first time with Ginny. He sort of wanted to talk with them about it, to figure out what was wrong with him that he’d not really enjoyed what they’d done together, but he knew that it wouldn’t be appropriate.

It couldn’t be appropriate, because of how much he wanted… well, how much he wanted Ron. How much he’d always wanted him, and wouldn’t it just break Ginny’s heart to know that? That she was his second choice, essentially? That the reason he’d broken up with her, during the war, hadn’t been entirely to keep her safe, but because he’d sort of been hoping that Ron might actually want him.

She would be devastated, and he would never tell her. Besides, even if she hadn’t been his first choice, it wasn’t like he didn’t love her. He did love her. Very much. Honestly, he did.

The point was that he’d wanted someone to talk to, and he hadn’t really thought over asking his two best friends, one of whom he had a crush on, and who happened to be Ginny’s older brother, about sex with her, and once he was out with them, it was too late to take back the dinner request.

But it was fine, because they still had a good night. At least, Harry thought it was a good night. It was filled with laughter and reminiscing and gentle smiles, and when Harry left, even if he didn’t know how he felt about things with Ginny still, he felt better in general.

What more could he ask for?

It was a good night, and had been a good day. At least, it was until he got home, and found Ginny waiting for him again. “I gave you a note this time!” Harry protested, the words spilling from his lips before he could even really think about what he was saying.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. “I know you did,” she said. She patted the couch by her side, asking Harry to come sit with her. “And I’m very happy that you did so. I’m glad that you learned after last time, when I was so worried. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Harry hesitated, but settled next to her on the couch. She immediately crawled over to him and settled herself in her lap. It made Harry nervous, but he let his hands rest gently on her waist anyway. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked, his voice small.

Ginny sighed. “Harry, darling, do you really think it’s appropriate for you to be going out with Ron and Hermione without me?”

Harry couldn’t help tensing, and he knew that Ginny felt it. “They’re my friends,” he said carefully. “Why wouldn’t it be appropriate?”

Ginny laughed, the sound having only a little bit of an edge to it. It was just a little too sharp, a little too cold, but it made Harry shiver. There was something about it that was… familiar, in a way that felt strange to him. “Harry, darling, just how stupid do you think I am?” she asked, still with that strange edge to her voice.

Harry blinked. “I don’t understand,” he said honestly. He didn’t think Ginny was stupid; quite the contrary, really. He knew that she was brilliant. Why would she think otherwise?

“You’ve had a crush on Ron since you were old enough to have crushes on anyone,” Ginny said flatly. She didn’t climb off of his lap, but her grip on his shoulders tightened so that he could feel ten small points digging into him. Her nails. She was digging her nails into his shoulders.

Harry let out a shaky little sigh. “I would never act on it,” he said, not bothering to deny what she knew to be the truth. “They’re happy together, and I’m happy for them.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t like the thought of you seeing either of them without me there.”

And Harry wanted to protest to that. They were his two best friends! His only ones, if he was going to be honest, other than Ginny. Neville and Luna and everyone were nice enough, but they were just acquaintances. None of them had been through everything with him the way that Ron and Hermione had, and to just stop spending time with them without Ginny…

But she wasn’t being unreasonable, was she? He’d had a crush on Ron. Still did, when he was honest with himself. And she deserved to know that her boyfriend wasn’t going to run around with someone else on her.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You’re right.” He looked down at his hands, where they rested on her waist. “Can I see them one last time, you know, to explain?”

Ginny let out a considering hum. “I suppose that isn’t the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” she said after a long silence. “But just to explain, Harry. Nothing more.”

Harry nodded. Just to explain. He could do that. He could explain and nothing more. He just hoped that they understood, rather than choosing to be difficult about it.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry’s mouth was dry. Too dry. It felt like he would never be able to force words out of it, and he croaked, literally, the first time he tried.

Ron handed him a glass of water with raised eyebrows. “You okay, mate?”

Hermione seemed similarly concerned. “You’re awfully nervous for a friendly after work visit.” Then she smiled, and the expression almost broke Harry’s heart. “Is there something you need to tell us about you and Ginny?”

Harry hesitated. “S-sort of.” he looked down at the water glass in his hands. “I mean, it’s not good news.” In the cold light of day, Ginny’s request seemed almost entirely unreasonable, for all that she had a valid reason for asking, and he didn’t think Ron and Hermione would appreciate the request.

How could they? Harry wasn’t happy about it, so they wouldn’t be. He just knew it.

“You two didn’t break up, did you?” Ron’s voice took on a bit of a growl. “Harry, I swear to Merlin, if you broke my little sister’s heart—”

“We didn’t break up,” Harry said quickly, before Ron could lose his temper and hex him. “It’s just…” He stopped and drew in a deep breath. He took another sip of water. “She doesn’t want…” He stopped again.

“Harry, it’s okay,” Hermione whispered. She reached out and touched Harry’s hand.

Harry jumped at the contact. “She thinks it would be better for us, for our relationship, if I stop spending so much time with the both of you alone.” His voice shook as he spoke, and as soon as he finished, he took a large gulp of the water, draining it, then put the empty glass on the table. His heart was pounding and he felt sick.

“She thinks that you shouldn’t hang out with us.” Hermione’s voice had gone flat. “And you’re just going to let her say that?”

Harry flinched. Damned if he did, because he wouldn’t get to see them anymore. Damned if he didn’t, because Ron would be furious with him for breaking Ginny’s heart. It didn’t matter what he did; he couldn’t win.

“She had compelling arguments,” Harry said finally, a bit weakly.

“Okay, great.” Ron leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “Let’s hear them, then.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like he could come out and say that he loved Ron. Hermione would be furious, Ron would be disgusted, and Ginny’s goals would be accomplished either way. He’d never see them again.

Rather than responding, he shook his head and cast a quick tempus. He barely glanced at the numbers before dispelling them with a flick of his wand. “I have to go,” he said tiredly.

“Harry, wait!” Hermione grabbed him by the wrist before he could stand to leave.

“What is it?” He didn’t look at her, or at Ron. He couldn’t. They’d be upset, and his heart would break, more than it already was.

“Listen, Harry,” she started, her voice gentle, all chill from earlier gone again. “If something ever… happens… in your relationship with Ginny, something that frightens you, or… or…” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Just… just know that you can come to us, no matter what, okay?”

Harry had no idea what she was talking about, but he nodded anyway because he had to get away. Then he pulled back carefully and Apparated away before he could lose it in front of them.

Only once he was alone in his room, Ginny gone for an away game, did he let himself cry. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so alone.

ooOOooOOoo

“You know, I was thinking,” Ginny started.

Harry couldn't explain the moment of absolute dread he felt at the words. There was no way a simple conversation with his girlfriend, whom he loved very much, should inspire such feelings of despair in him. He had to swallow a few times before he could get out, “What about?”

“Children,” Ginny said quietly. She leaned against him and smiled up at him. “Don’t you think we should have some?”

Harry looked away from her. He’d already said that he didn’t want any, because he was so very afraid… but he supposed that reason wasn’t good enough for her. “I don’t think that I want children,” he said, just as quietly. It probably wouldn’t do any good.

Once Ginny had an idea in her head, it was almost impossible to make her forget about it.

“But I do,” Ginny said patiently. “And I think you’d be a good father, especially with me there helping you along.”

And how could Harry argue with that? It was true that Ginny would be a good mother, he thought. Just look at her own mother. Molly was amazing! And how awful was he, to think about denying Ginny her chance to be a mother if she wanted? But, even so…

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said. His words were weaker this time, and he knew that he was going to be worn down on the issue soon enough, as little as he liked it. Especially since he couldn’t think of an argument that was anything other than a simple lack of desire.

Because why should his lack of desire trump her wants?

And… “I just don’t know that I can stay with someone who doesn’t want children,” Ginny said mournfully.

There it was. He didn’t feel strongly enough about not wanting children to be willing to lose his relationship with her. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to lose you over this.”

Ginny’s laugh was bright and sudden, startling him. “Of course you don’t,” she said, still giggling a bit. There was no doubt in her voice, no hesitation. “But you will, Harry, if you persist in this thinking that you don’t want children. I’m not willing to not have a child of my own. Period.”

Harry nodded. “I understand,” he said quickly. He tried to ignore the way that she said that last word, the flat tone and the complete determination, made him shiver inside. It was like his own wishes didn’t matter at all, like she only cared about herself, like…

No. No, he was wrong. That was his own anxiety and fear talking. “I just think that I should see a Mind Healer before we try to have a child,” Harry said, the words tumbling from his lips. He didn’t meet her eyes as he spoke, because he was terrified that she would think the idea was a foolish one.

Instead, though, her arms wound tightly around his waist and she shifted closer to him, leaning on him. “I think it’s a great idea,” she said softly, sweetly to him. She kissed him on the cheek. “You can work through some of your concerns about being a parent, because I just know that you’ll be good at it.”

Harry really wasn’t so sure, even with therapy, but there was a better chance than not that he was just being foolish. And a therapist, or a MInd Healer, would help. He hoped.

ooOOooOOoo

Therapy, as it turned out, was terrible.

His Mind Healer, who insisted that Harry call him by his first name, Alex, had warned him that things would get worse before they got better. He’d told Harry that he had a lot of trauma to work through, and while they were working on it, there was a very good chance that he would experience some unexpected side effects. And that was before he even knew about the Dursleys, when he’d just thought they were dealing with the trauma from the war.

And he was right. Harry found himself jumpy and tired. His nightmares were terrible, and got worse after some sessions. Sometimes he dreamed that he was locked in a small box and couldn’t get out while Voldemort slaughtered everyone outside the box. It was a ridiculous dream, and shouldn’t affect him in the way that it did, but every time he had the dream, he awoke in a cold sweat with his wand in hand, his heart pounding.

He was miserable.

And then there were the other problems caused by the therapy. His tiredness and his jumpiness meant that his work life was suffering. He’d nearly fallen asleep on a stakeout the other day, and Ron had almost been injured because of it. It was only pure luck that Harry had returned to his senses in time to realize that their targets were returning, so that Ron could get out in time.

And he’d almost hexed Ron three times, and Ginny twice.

Harry had believed that it would get worse before it got better, but he didn’t feel like he was getting better at all, for all that he was doing everything that Alex told him to.

It was after one such nightmare, when he woke up trembling and panting with his heart pounding, having just heard Ginny begging for her life much like his mother had in his memories, that Harry experienced yet another side effect of the Mind Healing.

“Harry, darling, come back to bed,” Ginny breathed from the bed.

Harry had gotten up and gone to stand in front of the window. He liked the open space, liked to be able to look outside and see that nothing was coming, see that he could look outside and he wasn’t in a cupboard or a box. And he didn’t like to disturb Ginny, which he’d done a few times with his tossing and turning after a bad dream.

She always got so angry when her sleep was interrupted…

“Sorry,” Harry said quickly. He didn’t want to fight, or even bicker at the moment. He felt like he was held together by a string, and that string was about to break. He hoped that it didn’t, but he couldn’t help thinking that it was going to.

He returned to bed, although it was the second to last thing he felt like doing.

Ginny cuddled up against him, making him feel all the more claustrophobic. He opened his mouth to ask her not to touch him right then, because of how he was feeling, when she said, “Still feeling a bit jumpy?” She rested her hand over his heart as she said it.

Harry could feel it pounding in his chest. “Yeah,” he said tiredly. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine.”

“But you have work tomorrow,” Ginny said. She began to stroke him, to touch him in a way that made his skin crawl even more than normal. Her hands brushing over his chest didn’t feel good at all, not at the moment, and he fought the urge to squirm away. “Let’s see if we can’t get you relaxed enough to go back to sleep,” she suggested.

And then she climbed on top of him.

Harry panicked, but tried to fight it back. And through it, she touched him, tried to get him to… to… but it wasn’t working. He wasn’t interested, and his body wasn’t responding to her at all. He couldn’t. Aside from the fact that his skin was crawling and he just… he just didn’t want it, he was so tired. There was no way that it was going to happy.

“What kind of a man are you?” Ginny hissed, climbing off of him.

“Ginny,” Harry started.

He cut off when a stinging heat bloomed in his cheek. She’d slapped him, hard enough that, when he raised a shaking hand to his face, he could feel scratches on his cheek from her nails.

“Don’t you dare try to excuse that,” she snarled. “You’re no kind of man, Harry Potter. A real man would be thrilled to have a beautiful woman like me on top of him, and you, you’re just… limp.” She slapped him again. “You just lie there like a dead fish, letting me do all the work, and you wonder why I’m upset?”

Harry felt terrible. “I’m sorry,” he said miserably. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He knew that he should want her, but he just… he couldn’t. Not right then. And she’d been so sweet, to try and work off some of the adrenaline racing through his system, and he’d just… just failed her.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, not sure of what else to say.

She sniffled a little, and then began to sob, the sound harsh and vicious, and his heart shattered. He wrapped his arms around her, apologizing again. Eventually, she choked out, “I’m just so worried, because you’ve been in therapy for a few weeks now, and you just seem to be getting worse, not better!”

She was right. Of course she was. But… still… “Alex said that it would take time,” Harry whispered. He held her close anyway, even though his skin was crawling and his heart was pounding and he wanted nothing more than to get away.

“Did he? Because Harry, what if he’s not helping you? What if he’s just making things worse so that he can have the prestige of treating the Boy Who Lived?” Ginny pulled back from him and looked up at him. Even in the moonlight, Harry could tell that her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from crying.

She… Harry didn’t want to think that she had a good point, but he was terrified that she might. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he whispered. He looked down.

“I think you should stop seeing him,” Ginny said, her voice still choked with tears. “Maybe see another Mind Healer if you’d like, but not him. Not anymore.”

Harry nodded. She was right. And there was no point in seeing another Mind Healer. Who was to say they wouldn’t turn out just as bad? He’d been fine before going to see Alex, and he would be fine again. He and Ginny could work things out.

Everything was going to be fine.

He left the bed to write a note to Alex cancelling his next appointment, and telling him that he wasn’t going to reschedule. Mind Healing had been a stupid idea anyway.

ooOOooOOoo

“I just think that everyone is a little worried about you.”

Harry didn’t look up. “I understand, sir,” he said quietly. He stared at the grain of Head Auror Robards’ desk, trying to ignore the way that his throat was choking up again. He hated this. And if he cried in front of the Head Auror, he would never live it down.

“Do you even realize that your cheek is bleeding again?” There was such concern in Robards’ voice that it made it difficult for Harry to ignore him.

“I told you when you asked about it on Monday that she had a nightmare, and it was an accident,” Harry repeated, and hoped that his voice didn’t give away how upset he was. “It’s not like she hit me on purpose, Robards.”

“Of course not,” Robards said immediately, in a tone that Harry had heard him use more often than not on distressed victims of crimes.

It rankled. “Was there anything else you needed to discuss, sir?” Harry asked, his voice sharp and professional. The lump in his throat had gone, swallowed by irritation. Why didn’t everyone think he could take care of himself? He was fine.

“No, I suppose not,” Robards muttered. When Harry glanced at him, he found the man staring at Harry with concerned eyes, his brow furrowed. “Just… Harry, if you do need help, there’s no shame in—”

“I don’t need help,” Harry bit out. He stood sharply, the motion almost knocking over the chair behind him. “I’m fine. Ginny and I are fine.”

He didn’t wait to be dismissed properly, just turned on his heel and stormed off to his desk, so that he could gather his things and go home. Ron was sitting there, waiting for him, and Harry shot him a baleful glare. “Did you put Robards up to talking to me?”

Ron just watched him. “No,” his once-friend said quietly. “I didn’t have to. We can all see how you’re doing, Harry, and it doesn’t look great.”

Harry looked away. “Well, thanks for that,” he muttered. He gathered his things. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right,” Ron agreed. “See you then, mate.” He touched Harry gently on the shoulder, and Harry flinched because it felt so nice to be touched so gently, and then he was gone.

Harry chose not to dwell on Ron’s touch, and instead headed home. He cooked dinner, tiredly, not really wanting to, but also not wanting to listen Ginny complain if he ordered in from somewhere. And then, over dinner, he said quietly to her, “Head Auror Robards called me in for another conversation.”

He hadn’t even considered not telling her about it. If he’d hidden it and she’d found out anyway… Harry suppressed a shiver. It wouldn’t have been good.

It wasn’t good this way, either. Ginny stiffened, her eyes narrowing and growing cold. They seemed darker than normal, but also of a slightly warmer hue. If Harry wasn’t wrong, he might have thought they almost looked… a bit… no. No. Ginny’s eyes were not red. It was a trick of the light, that was all.

“And what did the Head Auror want to speak with you about?” Ginny asked, her tone crisp and almost formal.

“The scratches,” Harry said with a small sigh. “They started bleeding again, and he was concerned. I think that he might think that you’re abusive.”

“Which is, of course, ridiculous,” Ginny said. She was cutting her roast with precise motions, into evenly sized little pieces before eating them. Harry couldn't be sure, but he didn’t remember her ever having done that before. “We certainly can’t have him questioning us, Harry. It makes us look bad.”

“Look bad?” Harry echoed, a little confused. What was she talking about? Since when had they cared how their relationship looked to outsiders? Ginny knew that he loved her, as much as he loved anyone.

Other than Ron, a small voice, treacherous and dangerous, whispered in his mind. Harry shoved it to the side.

“Yes, it looks bad.” She finished her roast and pushed her plate away, frowning. “Harry, darling, I don’t know that I want you to continue working for the Ministry. I can’t imagine what they have against me, but it seems clear that someone is pursuing some kind of vendetta.”

Harry didn’t know that she was right about that, but… “What would I do instead?” he asked, his voice small again. Meek. He didn’t want to upset her, and he didn’t know that she was wrong. Working for someone that was determined to undermine his relationship with Ginny…

It didn’t sit well with him. She deserved better than that from him.

“You could keep the house in good condition,” Ginny pointed out after the silence between them stretched. “It would give you time to consider whether or not you really want children, and maybe work on getting yourself to a better mindset for them. And the house wouldn’t be nearly as messy as it normally is.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, to say that the house was as neat as he could keep it without any help from her, and then he swallowed it back. That was the point, wasn’t it? He wasn’t doing a good job of keeping house, and Ginny had an incredibly demanding job. He, of all people, knew how hard Quidditch could be.

“That could work,” he said finally, tiredly, not entirely sure that he was making the right decision. “I’ll send an owl to Robards in the morning, formally resigning from my position.”

Ginny smiled at him and reached for his hand with her own, her touch as gentle as it ever was. “Good,” she said, soft and fierce. “This is just what our relationship needs, Harry, I’m sure of it.”

The next morning, Harry sent the owl. He got a response back, a generic one offering him the chance to change his mind and come back at any time. Harry burned it, and hoped that Ginny was right. That this was what their relationship needed. What Harry needed, to stop hurting Ginny, to stop upsetting her.

It couldn’t make things worse, at least, right?

ooOOooOOoo

Harry was very, very wrong. It turned out that quitting the Aurors could absolutely make his life worse, because Ginny was never satisfied with anything he tried to do at home. He worked as hard as he could, harder than he’d ever worked for the Dursleys, to try and keep house the way that Ginny wanted, but it just… nothing ever…

He took his glasses off, setting them on the floor beside him, and covered his face with his hands. The night’s dinner, a lasagna he’d worked the entire day on since he’d made the noodles and the sauce from scratch, surrounded him on the floor, a mess that Harry just knew was too big to clean up with his wand.

Not that he knew where it was, since she’d moved it at one point and just kept forgetting to tell him where she’d put it.

His hand was burned, and it throbbed in pain with every sobbing breath he took. He’d tried to catch the dish when she’d flung it had him, furious that he was trying to feed her something so fattening when she had to fit on a broomstick, and it hadn’t gone well. He might even have a broken finger; he wasn’t sure. His pinky was sticking out awkwardly.

But it was fine. He hurt, but he was okay. She hadn’t meant to lose her temper like that, he knew it. She was just stressed because they’d lost her last game, and the reporter had blamed it mostly on her failure to play properly.

Harry had never seen her have such a bad game. It was almost like she’d never been on a broom before. Probably because she’d been so stressed about the state of the house, and Harry’s failures to keep it up to her standards.

He didn’t know how Molly did it. Part of him wanted to go see her, to get some advice, but it wasn’t like he could just up and go. He’d need to write her, and it wasn’t like he had an owl. Or like he could send a letter from the Owlery on Diagon Alley. That required money, and Ginny had long since taken control of their finances.

It wasn’t like Harry knew the first thing about managing money, after all.

There was a comparison he could make, if Harry didn’t know for sure that Ginny loved him, that this was almost like being back with the Dursleys again. But Ginny loved him, and Harry knew that she did, and he loved her too.

He got his sobbing under control and drew in a few shaky breaths, managing to hold them for just a little longer with each one. Then, finally, he let out one long exhale, almost a sigh, and forced himself to wipe away his tears. He put his glasses on and surveyed the mess in front of him. He didn’t know how he was going to get it cleaned up, but he had to try.

Ginny would be furious if he hadn’t started by the time she got back from wherever she’d gone.

ooOOooOOoo

That night, Harry went to bed with Ginny at his side, tearfully contented with the soft and gentle apologies she’d made for losing her temper, and entirely understanding of her rage. He’d be embarrassed to if he’d ever lost a game as badly as the Harpies had that day.

In his sleep, he dreamt of Ron, though. Ron, touching him, telling him that he loved him, that he was going to take care of him. Ron, stroking him to hardness, then sitting on top of him and grinding down, taking what he wanted, what Harry wanted to give him.

In his dream, he came with a sharp, needy cry, and Ron cried out as well, his own body tightening around Harry.

And then Harry woke up, and he found himself staring into glowing red eyes, and Ginny’s dark voice hissing, “We’re going to make a baby together, darling.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, to shove her off of him, and then she ground onto him again, making his cock twitch in spite of the way his skin was suddenly crawling.

 _“Imperio,”_ she hissed, and Harry lost himself to the floating feeling that the words induced.


	2. Get Out

Although Harry was, technically speaking, able to resist the Imperius Curse and its effects, it took him several minutes to find the presence of mind to do so. Even though Ginny was successfully making his skin crawl, she was also very good at getting what she wanted from him, and the feelings she was drawing from Harry were making it incredibly difficult to successfully gather his thoughts enough to fight the curse.

It got easier when he reached his peak inside of her, when the pleasure hit its highest point. Then, and only then, was he able to gather his mental faculties enough to break the curse’s hold and shove her off of him.

Ginny hit the ground with a cry, and Harry got to his feet and lunged for her wand before she could even think to go after it. She scrambled to her feet, or tried to, but her wand submitted to Harry almost immediately and he hit her with a shouted “ _ Incarcerous _ !” Ropes shot from her wand and twisted around her, binding her in place.

She fell over like a tree that had been cut down, landing on her side with another shout. “Harry,” she cried, tears staining her cheeks, like she hadn’t just been… been… been raping him. She’d raped him.

The thought chased itself around and around in Harry’s head, and he stumbled back to sit on the bed, his eyes wide, his breath coming in startled little pants. She’d raped him. She’d taken him against his will because… because… because she wanted a child?

But… but her eyes had been red. Harry swallowed, staring at her. “What did you do?” he asked hoarsely. The words stuck in his throat, but he asked anyway.

“I want a child,” Ginny said, her voice petulant. “Let me out of these bindings, Harry, and we can be happy together. With or without a child. I promise, I won’t try to get pregnant again.”

Did she actually think he would believe that? He’d trusted her, and she’d… she’d… had that even been her? He didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do now. If he went and got an Auror… but what else could he do? She’d raped him.

The words still didn’t sound quite right in his head. Could he be raped? He’d gotten off on it. More than once, because reaching orgasm had been what had woken him up in the first place. And if he’d gotten off, then it couldn’t be rape, right?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know how anything worked anymore, if he ever had. But he knew that he had to talk to someone, because what she’d done…

It was three o’clock in the morning, according to the clock by their bedside, and Harry didn’t know who he could call at three o’clock. He couldn’t even talk to Ron and Hermione, because he’d burned that bridge for her. What could he do? Who could he go to?

The Aurors were an option, he supposed. But… would they even believe him? Who would? Harry Potter, former Auror, war hero, being raped by his girlfriend, if that was even possible?

Harry drew in a shuddering breath. He had to do something, he knew that, but he couldn’t think. He cast a quiet “ _ Stupefy _ ,” with her wand, knocking her unconscious and silencing her pleading, and then went to the fireplace. He hesitated there, not sure what to do.

He grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and stared at it in his hands. It looked like something so small, so insignificant, but he hadn’t left the house without Ginny in what felt like forever. Could he do it? Did he have the strength? Wouldn’t it just be easier to go back to the bedroom, to let her go, to pretend like tonight had never happened?

Harry shuddered. No. He couldn’t. She’d raped him. All of the things she’d done to him, and that… that felt like maybe it might be the worst. She’d been trying to turn him into a father, when he knew that he wasn’t ready for anything of the sort.

How could she?

Maybe… maybe something was wrong with her. Maybe someone had cursed her or something, and maybe that was why she’d…

Harry closed his eyes. Maybe she’d been cursed. Maybe things would be okay, but he had to figure out who to call before they could even start figuring that out. Maybe…

Hermione had said that he could come by at any time if he needed them. And even though it was three o’clock in the morning, he didn’t know who else he could talk to. And he needed to see them. He needed to see Ron, even if Ron was so angry with him that they couldn’t really talk. Harry just… he just… he needed to see someone familiar, someone who might potentially be friendly.

He gave the address of their flat and went through the Floo, hoping that he didn’t bounce off of their wards. He hadn’t seen them in weeks, if not months, and didn’t know if they were angry enough at him to readjust the wards to throw him out. He hoped not. That would hurt, and he was tired, and he hurt enough already.

He felt like his soul had been ripped in half, like he was falling apart inside, but he was also curiously numb. It was the strangest thing he’d ever felt in his life, and he didn’t know what to do.

But he didn’t bounce of their wards, he realized. He was standing in the middle of their dark living room, had been standing there for who knew how long, and he didn’t want to wake them up now that he was there. Maybe he should go…

“Harry?”

Harry’s heart stuttered. That was Ron. He’d woken him up; he still sounded so groggy. “Sorry,” he said quickly. He looked down, and realized that he hadn’t even bothered to put on clothes before coming through the Floo.

“Mate, you’re naked,” Ron said bluntly. His eyes were raking over Harry, though, and they were narrowed. “And you’re shivering, and I could be wrong, but are you injured? Harry, what happened?”

Harry opened his mouth, but the only thing to come out was a tiny sob. He lifted a shaking hand to his cheeks, to find that they were damp. He was crying. He tried to say something else, but he couldn’t manage it. He just ducked his head and turned his back, incredibly ashamed of his nudity and not sure what to do about it.

He should go. This was a terrible idea. He needed to go, to return to Ginny, to try and work this out, because everything would be fine if he just talked to her and told her again why he didn’t want to have children, why he couldn’t.

She had to have been drunk or something, that was all. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.

Something soft landed on his shoulders, and Harry realized it was one of the plush blankets that Hermione kept lying around because she liked the feel of them. He could see why; this one was the softest thing he’d ever felt, and one of the warmest. He hadn’t even realized how cold he’d been until Ron wrapped the blanket around him.

“Come sit with me for a minute before you go flying back there,” Ron said soothingly, and Harry realized that he’d spoken at least a little bit of what he’d been thinking out loud.

“I have to get back,” Harry babbled, even as he was led to the couch where Ron forced him to sit down with gentle hands on his shoulders. “You don’t understand, I left Ginny unconscious and tied up. If she was drunk, she might throw up, and she might choke on the vomit, Ron.”

“I don’t think Ginny was drunk,” Hermione said softly from behind the couch. Harry didn’t even know when she’d arrived, but he wasn’t surprised that she was awake. Their wards had probably woken both of them up, given the hour of the night.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said again, because he was sorry for waking them up for what was probably nothing. Ginny would be so mad at him.

“You don’t have to be,” Ron murmured. He took Harry’s hands, his touch curiously gentle. “Is this my sister’s wand, Harry?”

Harry nodded. “I don’t know where mine is,” he whispered. “I haven’t seen it in weeks.”

“Is that so?” Hermione asked. She settled on the couch next to Harry. She reached for him, but let her hands fall to her lap when Harry flinched. “Where did you last see it?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t remember,” he said. “Ginny moved it, and then she just… she forgot to tell me where she put it, that‘s all.”

Ron made a small noise, but fell silent like he’d choked it off. Hermione’s face had fallen, and she held out her hands for Harry’s.

Harry didn’t take them. “I should get back to her,” he whispered. But he made no move to get off the couch, and instead wrapped the soft blanket even more tightly around himself.

“I have a better idea,” Ron said quietly from behind him. “Why don’t I contact Head Auror Robards, and you get some rest here for the night. Robards will see to it that no harm comes to Ginny tonight, and we’ll get all of this sorted out in the morning.”

Harry thought that maybe that sounded reasonable. He was very tired, and he didn’t think that he could go back to bed in his own home because the bed was… was… he just didn’t think he’d be able to sleep there right at that moment. It was dirty.

He swallowed. “Okay,” he whispered, forcing the word out of a dry throat. “The Head Auror will take good care of Ginny, right? I’m worried that she might be drunk or something.”

“He will,” Ron whispered. “He’s probably going to have some questions for her, though. But I promise he’ll be nice while he asks them.”

Harry wasn’t sure about that. About letting someone ask Ginny questions, because she hated it when people questioned her. She didn’t like it when Harry asked for clarification about things, or challenged her when she said things needed to be done a certain way. What did Harry know about keeping a house, after all?

Still… “Okay,” he whispered again. He looked down, trying to ignore the feelings of betrayal that were making his heart pound. He wasn’t betraying Ginny. He was making sure that she got someone to look after her when he didn’t feel like he could. He was doing a good thing.

“Let’s get you settled in,” Hermione said. She reached for him again, and again Harry flinched away from her. She frowned, but it wasn’t a hurt frown. It appeared instead to be a frown of consideration. “Ron, do you think that you can help Harry to bed while I contact the Head Auror?” she finally asked.

“I can do that,” Ron said. “C’mon, mate, let’s get you set up in the guest room.” He reached for Harry’s hand and, even though Harry knew that Ginny would be angry about it, Harry took it and let himself be drawn to his feet.

“I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep,” Harry whispered as he padded after Ron to the spare room. “I just didn’t know where else I could go, and she really…” He stopped talking.

“She really…” Ron trailed off leadingly, even as he opened the door to the spare room, turned on the light, and turned down the covers on the bed.

Harry sat on the bed, and Ron settled next to him. “She scared me,” Harry whispered. He swallowed, trying to moisten his throat. It didn’t really work. He wondered if he’d screamed while he’d been under the curse’s influence. He might have, honestly.

“I’m sorry,” Ron said softly. He waited a moment, like he was trying to give Harry the chance to say something else if he so desired, and when Harry said nothing, he asked, “Do you want me to get you a set of spare pajamas? I’m bigger than you, so they’d be loose, but they would work in a pinch.”

It was on the tip of Harry’s tongue to say no, to say that he didn’t need pajamas and didn’t want to be a bother, more of one than he already was, but then he thought about trying to sleep naked. Trying to sleep naked when Ginny had… when she’d… she’d raped him.

He shuddered at the very idea. “Please?” he asked, his voice small.

“Coming right up,” Ron murmured. He ran a hand through Harry’s hair, gently, and then left the room. He was back in just a few minutes with an old shirt and a pair of long pants. 

Harry took them and got dressed quickly, relishing the feel of being covered again. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Ron smiled at him, and there was something oddly pained in the expression. “It was my pleasure,” he murmured. He nodded at the bed, then. “Why don’t you lie down, Harry? You look exhausted.”

Harry felt more tired than he ever had in his life, but he also didn’t know if he’d be able to sleep. He settled on the bed obediently, his heart pounding a little when Ron turned out the lights. “Stay?” he asked, his voice breaking on the word.

Ron went still; Harry couldn’t hear him moving at all, not even to breathe. Then, quietly, he heard Ron say, “Of course.” The bed dipped, and Harry realized that he’d sat on the bed with him. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep, okay?”

Harry nodded, but realized that Ron couldn’t actually see him. “Thank you,” he whispered. He let his eyes fall closed. “She cursed me,” he whispered into the darkness. It was easier to talk about when he was in the dark, when he couldn’t see Ron’s face as he spoke.

“She cursed you?” Ron echoed. Harry felt a touch to his arm, and realized that Ron was trying to find his hand.

Harry took Ron’s hand in his own and squeezed, desperate for the contact. “The Imperius Curse,” he whispered. His eyes were closed. “She wanted children, Ron, even though I kept telling her that I wasn’t ready for them. And her eyes were red, Ron. They were so red, I thought… I thought… someone has to have cursed her, right? Right, Ron?”

Ron was very quiet beside him, quiet enough that Harry thought that maybe he’d gone to sleep or something. Then, gently, Ron said, “I don’t know, Harry.” He squeezed Harry’s hand. “Is it okay if, once you’re asleep, I get her wand looked at? Just to see the last few spells that were used.”

Harry didn’t know about that, but… but she was Ron’s sister. Ron wouldn’t want to hurt her or anything. “Okay,” he said quietly. He felt like a weight lifted off of him as he said it, and he found himself drifting into sleep’s embrace without really fighting it. “Okay,” he said again, and then he was asleep.

ooOOooOOoo

When Harry woke up, the sun was shining in his eyes and everything felt strange. He felt weird, his whole body felt like lead and he was having a hard time trying to get it to respond to him. He managed it, but it took a few tries. He sat up, his head pounding, and wondered why the room was in the wrong shape, why he was wearing unfamiliar pajamas, why…

And then it hit him. The curse, the rape, his confused decision to escape to Ron and Hermione’s flat. Harry let out a shuddering little sigh and got out of bed, swinging his legs to the side. He waited a minute to make sure that his legs would actually hold him when he went to stand up, and then he actually got up and left the guest room.

Ron was sitting in the living room, Hermione was bustling around in the kitchen if Harry wasn’t mistaken, and Head Auror Robards was sitting in the one armchair that Hermione and Ron kept because it was Crookshanks’ favorite place to sit. Both of them favored the couch, and Harry, when he’d visited, had always favored it as well.

Harry swallowed, his throat dry. “Head Auror Robards,” he whispered, having to force the words out.

Ron jumped to his feet when Harry entered the room. “Come sit down, mate,” he said quickly, and ushered Harry over to the couch. “Let me get you a glass of water. You hungry at all?”

Harry shook his head. Even if he’d been ravenous, he didn’t think that he could eat.

Robards was studying him, his gaze intent on Harry, and Harry felt incredibly uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He didn’t like being looked at like that, but he didn’t want to tell the man to stop. So he dropped his gaze, and when Ron brought him a glass of cool water, he distracted himself with a long sip of that.

It was only once he’d swallowed that Robards said quietly, “We’ve examined Ginny, and found no evidence of any curses on her, other than the curses you used to subdue her after attacking you.”

Harry shuddered to hear the words spoken so bluntly. “She meant to… to…” He couldn’t force the words out, not out loud. She’d meant to rape him, then. There hadn’t been any outside influence that they knew of.

“As far as we can tell so far, yes,” Robards said. “And once we arrived, once we questioned her under Veritaserum, she made no attempt to lie about what she’d done. She’s been most cooperative, likely in the hopes of receiving a reduced sentence.”

Harry shuddered. “What happens now?” he asked. “Will there be a trial?” He couldn’t testify, he didn’t think. He would lose his mind if he had to. He’d had more than enough of being in the public eye; he couldn’t go back to it for something like this.

The things the papers would say about him… Even without a trial, it was going to be a nightmare.

“She’s confessed,” Robards said. “The only trial we need to have will be one for sentencing, which we’ll proceed with once we’ve finished all of her examinations.” There was a long silence, and then Robards started, in a voice filled with sympathy that hurt to hear in way that Harry couldn’t begin to explain, “Harry—”

“I can’t,” he said quickly, his voice breaking. He took another sip of his water to try and clear his throat. “Whatever it is that you’re about to say, I can’t do it right now. I just… I can’t. Please.”

“I understand,” Robards said. There was a long silence, and then, quietly, he said, “At some point, some point soon, we’re going to need to get your statement about what happened. Even though we have her confession, it will help with sentencing her.”

Harry nodded, and didn’t look at the man.

“Then… Weasley, you said you wanted some time off?”

“I can’t work the case anyway; she’s my sister. And I think that Harry needs both Hermione and I, if it’s okay with you, sir,” Ron said. He touched Harry’s shoulder gently, and Harry fought the urge to lean into him.

He didn’t want to make Ron uncomfortable.

“You’ve got a hell of a lot of time stored up,” Robards said. “And we’re not particularly busy. Take two weeks to start with, and we can reassess from there.”

“Yes sir,” Ron said.

Robards left, presumably through the Floo, but Harry supposed he could have Apparated, and then Hermione cane into the living room with a small plate of toast, which she put in front of Harry.

“I’m not hungry,” Harry said dully. The thought of food was abhorrent.

“Please, try a bit of it?” Hermione coaxed.

Harry sighed, but picked up a corner and took a small bite. He managed one or two before he had to shove them away. He was still so tired, almost unspeakably so. “Can I go back to bed?” he asked, his voice small.

Ginny hated it when he slept during the day.

“Of course,” Ron said. He helped Harry to his feet and walked him back to the spare bedroom. “Do you want me to stay again?”

Harry could think of few things he wanted more, but he shook his head. “Thank you,” he said, and closed the door between the two of them. Then he went to bed and settled under the covers once more and wondered what he’d done, what he’d set in motion.

He wondered what Ginny would do to him when she finally talked her way out of trouble, because he knew she would. It would probably hurt.

It would have been smarter not to come at all, to just stay with her and let her have her way. That was always the smarter idea. Why was he so damned stupid all the time? He needed her to look after him. He was never going to make it on his own.

ooOOooOOoo

Ron Apparated with him when the time came to go and see the Aurors to give his statement, less than a week after he’d fled to Ron and Hermione’s house. Hermione had gone first, alone, but Ron side-alonged with Harry, maybe so that Harry couldn’t get lost, maybe so that he could keep him steady. Harry didn’t know why. He thought maybe there was a rule about it that he could remember in the very back of his mind, but it didn’t make much sense to him at the moment, so he stopped trying to remember.

Auror Chang was waiting for them in one of the interrogation rooms, her smile soft and sympathetic. She was careful with Harry as Ron guided him to a seat, and explained every step of the statement giving process, even though she technically didn’t have to since Harry had been an Auror himself.

She waited until he’d settled himself, waited until Ron was sitting next to him, before asking, “Can you tell me about that night, Harry?”

Harry swallowed. “I woke up with her on top of me,” he said quietly. He looked down at the plain metal table, let his fingers come to rest on it. The chill of it was grounding. “I didn’t know what was going on, but she told me that she wanted a baby, and then she put me under the Imperius Curse and kept… you know, having sex with me. I broke it, and then I pushed her off and bound her with her own wand. Then I went to see Ron.”

Harry didn’t know how his voice sounded to everyone else, but he felt curiously flat as he told his story. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was saying, it was that he didn’t know how he was supposed to be feeling as he said it. It was strange and confusing, and he stared at the table even harder to try and hide it.

“Thank you, Harry,” Auror Chang murmured. “Can you tell me a bit more about what your relationship with Ginny was like prior to that night?”

Harry shuddered. The longer he’d been away from her, even at only one week, the more he realized how very bad their relationship had gotten. But how could he explain it without seeming like the pathetic victim that he was?

“She didn’t like it when I went out without her,” he said slowly, looking for a place to start. “She didn’t like that I worked, so I quit my job. She didn’t like that I was such close friends with Ron and Hermione, so I stopped seeing them. I just wanted to make this relationship work, and I was so determined that I just let her…” He stopped and shivered, feeling a chill in spite of the perfectly temperate air on the room.

Ron took his hand and stroked one finger gently over the back of it. “It’s okay,” he murmured to Harry. “You should tell Cho anything you can about it. Nobody in this room is going to judge you.”

Hermione let out a small hum of agreement, but made no move to touch Harry. She never did, not since she’d realized that Harry flinched every time she tried.

Harry felt terrible about that, but he couldn’t exactly control his own response.

He drew in a shuddering breath. “She wanted kids so badly,” he finally whispered. “And I kept trying to tell her that I didn’t want them, because I don’t, because I know that I’m not going to be a good father, but she just kept pushing. So I got a Mind Healer, to see if maybe I could work through my feelings of fear at being a parent, but Ginny didn’t like who I was when I was seeing the Mind Healer, because I couldn’t give her… you know, the things that she wanted from me, and so…” He stopped. He couldn’t have said any more if he’d wanted to, because his throat felt like it was closing up. He knew that he was crying because he could see the tears splashing on the metal of the table.

“Thank you, Harry,” Chang murmured into the silence that fell.

Harry tried to reign in his hitching breaths as he was dismissed from the interrogation room. He still had to go and see the healers, so that he could be examined, and he didn’t want to do that when he was still in tears.

“I don’t know why she was so kind to me,” he said, his voice soft and broken as Ron and Hermione ushered him through the halls of the Ministry to the Apparition point that they would use to get to St. Mungo’s. “Why was she so nice?”

“Because she didn’t want to hurt you any more,” Hermione murmured. She stopped walking and turned to study Harry, her eyes sharp and hard. “Because you seem fragile, Harry, and no one wants to be the one to break you.”

Harry shuddered to hear her say that. “Right,” he muttered. He looked away and didn’t say anything more until they were through with their visit to St. Mungo’s, which went about the way that Harry suspected in that he was told that he was in terrible physical and mental shape, and should probably begin seeing a Mind Healer once more as soon as he could.

“Do you two think I’m broken?” he asked, finally, once they were alone in Ron and Hermione’s flat once more.

Ron’s swallow was audible, and then he was pulling Harry into a loose, careful hug. “No,” Ron whispered fiercely, and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Harry’s head. Harry tried not to read more into it than there was, but it would have been so easy… 

“Neither of us think you’re anywhere near broken,” Hermione agreed. “You might be hurting, but you’re not broken at all, Harry, and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Harry sniffled a little, the sound soggy, but tried to reign the tears in. Then Ron’s arms tightened around him, and his best friend whispered to him, “You can cry if you need to; none of us will judge you,” and Harry couldn’t stop himself from bursting into sobs.

He felt broken, and he didn’t know what he was going to do about it, or whether he even could do anything about it or not. He felt ruined, and didn’t think he’d ever be okay again.

What was he going to do?

ooOOooOOoo

Harry didn’t know what to expect when he was called in for a meeting with Head Auror Robards and Auror Chang, who was apparently leading the investigation into Ginny’s actions. He was especially confused because, for the first time since all of this had begun, it had been specifically requested that he come alone.   
Harry wasn’t sure if he’d be able to manage, but he let himself be ushered through the Floo by Ron, and then followed the once-familiar path to the Auror’s department, where he found Chang and Robards waiting for him in one of the more comfortable rooms, one more designed for taking a victim’s statement than a criminal’s. There was no metal table in this room, just soft and fluffy furniture that was designed to comfort rather than intimidate.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t been questioned in this room in the first place, but he was glad that he hadn’t. He had a lot of trouble thinking of himself as a victim.

Harry settled gingerly in one of the chairs. He’d never liked this particular room, even when he’d been an Auror. “What did you need to see me about?” he asked, his voice a little shaky. He really didn’t like being out without Ron. Ron had been by his side almost constantly since he’d gone to them, and while it probably wasn’t good for Harry to be letting himself become so dependent on the man he loved, who he knew wasn’t available for a relationship, he couldn’t quite make himself stop.

“We wanted to talk to you about Ginny,” Robards said, his voice curiously gentle.

Harry wasn’t used to hearing him say anything in that particular tone of voice, and it set him on edge. Whatever was coming couldn’t possibly be good, not if that was the way he started things out. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

“She managed to succeed in her goals that night,” Chang said quietly, but bluntly. “She’s pregnant, Harry.”

Harry froze, every muscle in his body tensing at once. He wanted to get up, to flee the room, but he didn’t… he couldn’t… “She… she what?” That couldn’t be his voice, could it? So weak and shaky? It didn’t sound like him at all, at least, it didn’t sound like how he normally sounded.

He didn’t think. What did he know?

“She successfully got herself pregnant,” Robards repeated gently. “And Harry, that means that unfortunately, we’re not going to execute her until after she’s given birth. Wizarding children cannot be sacrificed for something one of their parents did. You’ll be expected to care for the baby, when it’s born.”

Harry closed his eyes and tried to pretend like he hadn’t heard what he thought he had. But how could he not have heard? This didn’t make any sense. He swallowed around the lump that was rapidly forming in his throat. “You said she was going to be executed?” he finally managed to croak out. It was the only thing he could get out. “Why is she being executed? Shouldn’t it just be a few years in Azkaban or something?”

He’d never heard of anyone being executed for engaging in abuse, no matter how severe the abuse had been. Not that he thought that Ginny’s abuse of him had been all that bad, of course. Because it could have been much worse.

“It would be, normally, but given the abomination that Ginny’s become—” Chang cut off abruptly when Robards shook his head once, sharply. She drew in a deep breath. “What I meant to say was that we can’t discuss details of active cases before the Wizengamot.”

Robards sighed. “That isn’t what we meant either,” he said tiredly. “Harry, if you would follow me into my office?”

Harry glanced from one to the other, baffled. Nothing felt like it was making sense, and he didn’t think it was just because he was in shock. She was pregnant, and he was going to have a child. Harry didn’t even know how to handle that, much less whatever it was that Robards was about to tell him.

“Sure,” he said finally, and followed Robards through the familiar halls to his office. When they entered, Harry settled in one of the more comfortable chairs as soon as he was prompted to do so. “What’s going on, sir?”

“You don’t have to call me sir, Harry,” Robards said gently. When Harry didn’t respond, he sighed. “Harry, let’s talk about Ginny and the deterioration of her mental state. You said that things weren’t always as bad as they were at the end, right?”

“No, sir,” he said quietly, with a small nod. “She used to be far kinder than she was at the end, and used to be more careful of a lot of things.”

“Right, because you would have left her if she’d started out that way.” Robards nodded. He sat down across from Harry, not at his desk but on the other side of it, where Harry would have sat had he been in trouble for something. “Harry, part of her deterioration was due to the exposure she had to one of He Who Must Not Be Named’s soul fragments.”

Harry stilled, all of the breath feeling like it had been sucked from him. “What?” he asked, his voice breathless and barely there.

“The exposure she had to the diary at such a young age, and for such an extended period of time, meant that her mind was permanently corrupted by You Know Who,” Robards explained. He met Harry’s eyes squarely as he spoke, his voice steady. This wasn’t a theory; this was something he was clearly certain of. “And there is some evidence to suggest that she’s actually some amalgamation of that monster and of herself.”

Harry shuddered, the words almost breaking him. “I destroyed it, though,” he whispered. He looked down at his hands, not at all surprised to see that they were twisted together and his knuckles were white. “I destroyed it, and I saved her. Didn’t I?”

“For a long time, yes,” Robards said. “But it wasn’t fast enough. The Mind Healers think that it never could have been fast enough, that she was doomed to suffer this fate from the first time she used the diary.”

Harry shook his head quickly. “I wrote in it a few times,” he said, his voice shaking. His vision blurred, and he realized that his eyes were filling with tears. “If I did that, does that mean that—” Did it mean that in spite of literally dying to rid the world of Voldemort, it hadn’t been enough? Was he going to turn into Voldemort too?

Or, ironically enough, had the horcrux inside of him protected him from the other fragment?

“It mean that you should see a Mind Healer to be assessed,” Robards said gently. “Preferably before your child is born, so that you can take care of him or her to the best of your ability.”

Harry’s heart shattered the rest of the way. “I don’t want it,” he said quickly. He stood up, and was grateful that he hadn’t been in the same type of chair that Robards was, because it would have fallen over. “I don’t want the child, I never did. Robards, you have to find someone else to take it.”

“You have to take the child, Harry,” Robards said gently. “Wizarding law prohibits the abandoning of a blood child. There’s no system of adoption, Harry. It’s why so many Squibs grow up miserable, because they cannot be abandoned to the Muggle world.”

Harry drew in a shuddering breath, then another, but it wasn’t enough. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like there was a massive weight on his chest, and he couldn’t get rid of it. His shoulders shook, and he knew that the tears which had been threatening were falling. He was breaking down, and he didn’t know what he was going to do about it.

“I need to go,” he whispered, and before Robards could stop him, he fled the office, and then the Ministry itself. He Apparated back to Grimmauld Place, the tired and terrifying old house where Ginny had all but held him captive, and stood in the entrance hall wondering what he was going to do.

He wasn’t able to be a parent, he never had been. He was stuck, and he didn’t know what to do.

ooOOooOOoo

He didn’t know how long he stayed at Grimmauld Place, not sure of what he was going to do. He knew that he slept at least once, although he only did it when he literally couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He didn’t eat anything, because the thought of food made him sick. He didn’t close his eyes except for the one time, because if he tried, he remembered what Ginny had done to him and it sent him spiralling into panic once more.

He didn’t know what he was going to do, and he didn’t know if there was even a solution out there. Maybe there wasn’t. Maybe that was just how his life worked. Maybe he would give and give and give until there was nothing left of him to give.

He’d already given this world his life once. Maybe it wouldn’t stop until he’d done it a second time.

The thought crossed his mind that if the world wasn’t going to stop, then maybe… maybe…

But just as he was thinking the thought, there were two loud cracks, and Ron and Hermione appeared in front of him. He jumped at the sound, and stared at them in shock. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going. But, then again, it wasn’t like there were that many places for him to hide.

“Harry,” Ron breathed. He stepped forward immediately and pulled Harry into his arms, his embrace tight and strong. “Thank Merlin,” he whispered against Harry’s hair. His breath stirred the strands, and Harry trembled at the feel of it.

He tried to suppress it, but it wasn’t easy, and he was so tired that he couldn’t manage it.

“We were very worried about you,” Hermione murmured. She came to stand behind Ron, but made no move to touch Harry. Harry appreciated that very much. “Robards told us what spooked you after you didn’t reappear that day.”

“How long has it been?” Harry asked. He brought his hands up to twist in Ron’s robes, clinging just a little. It was so nice, being in his arms, even though he knew it wasn’t quite what he actually wanted and it never would be.

“Just two days,” Hermione said.

“There’s no just about it,” Ron hissed. “You disappeared, mate, and with the mood you were apparently in when we left Robards’ office, I thought maybe…”

Harry swallowed. He closed his eyes and leaned against Ron, and carefully didn’t think about the fact that he’d thought about it. Instead, he said, “Sorry,” in a very soft whisper. He couldn't quite make his voice work any more than that.

“Let’s get you home,” Ron said in response. He didn’t wait for a response before Side-Alonging with Harry, and they spilled out in the middle of Ron and Hermione’s bedroom, a room that Harry had only visited once or twice, and never for long.

“Have you eaten anything?” Hermione asked after she appeared behind them. She seemed amused by something, though Harry couldn't imagine what.

He shook his head. “I haven’t been hungry,” he said honestly. “I’ve been too distracted by…” He swallowed, nausea making his stomach clench. “She’s pregnant, and I can’t… I’m not…” He stopped and drew in a sobbing breath. “I’m not going to be a good parent. I don’t know how—”

Ron’s arms tightened briefly, then he pulled back. He knelt down and began unlacing Harry’s shoes, which made no sense and was strange enough to jar Harry out of his spiralling thoughts. “What on earth are you doing?” he asked, his voice still choked with tears.

“You’re tired, and overwrought,” Ron said stubbornly. He finished with one of Harry’s shoes and tugged gently until Harry lifted his foot, letting his shoe be removed. He did the same for the other when Ron was finished with it. “Everything feels worse when you’re exhausted, so let’s get some rest.” He tipped Harry into the bed as soon as he had his shoes off.

Harry, who didn’t see it coming, landed with a startled squeak. “You… I…” He glanced at Hermione, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “This is your bed,” he said helplessly.

“It is,” she agreed. She backed up a step. “But you do need sleep, and I think both of us would prefer to know exactly where you are tonight.”

“But I—”

Ron tumbled into bed beside Harry before he could finish his thought. “But nothing,” he said. He wrapped himself around Harry, and Hermione spelled the blankets up over them with a flick of her wand. “We’re going to sleep now, and we’re going to talk in the morning when everything feels just a little bit better. Maybe over a big breakfast, because you’ll be starving then.”

“But, Hermione,” Harry objected, a little feebly. “She needs to sleep too, right?”

“I can sleep in the guest room for one night,” she responded. She came into the room just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to Ron’s lips, and to brush a careful hand through Harry’s hair when he didn’t flinch as soon as she got close. “Sleep well, you two.”

She turned out the lights as she left, leaving Harry confused in the darkness.

“Ron, I—” He stopped when he felt a soft, lightly calloused fingertip brush against his lips.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Ron said insistently, his voice warm and certain. “Everything’s going to work out, I promise.”

Harry shivered when soft lips brushed against his forehead, and he found himself snuggling close to Ron, even though he knew how inappropriate it was. He was a married man, and had no idea of Harry’s affections for him. What kind of monster was he, taking advantage of Ron like this? He drew in a shuddering, hitching breath and tried his hardest not to cry.

“It’s all going to be okay,” Ron murmured, and smoothed a hand down Harry’s back. “Hermione and I are here with you. We’re not going to leave you to deal with this on your own.”

Not until they knew about Harry’s feelings, anyway. It was a bitter thought, one that chased him into sleep and made his nightmares all the more worse that night.


	3. A Better Place

After that one night spent in Ron and Hermione’s bed, Harry retreated to the guest room, and he didn’t leave it for quite some time.

 

He couldn’t. He was too afraid…

 

Ron and Hermione were there for him now, and he was so very grateful, but… but they would find out… and, like Ginny had always warned him, when they found out about his feelings for Ron, he would be forced from their home.

 

Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to just go of his own volition?

 

The thought had been brewing for what felt like forever, and now Harry had a hard time blocking it out. It would be better if he went now, before he could get too attached to living with Ron and Hermione, before he started to rely on them too much, before… before… before he got used to their help when it came to raising his…

 

The child. He couldn’t think of it as his. Maybe that made him a bad person, he didn’t know.

 

“Harry, you have to eat something,” Ron said quietly through the door, jarring Harry from his thoughts.

 

“I’m not hungry,” he muttered, just loud enough that he could be heard. He wasn’t. He never was when he was under stress, and right at the moment, he was particularly stressed.

 

He had to leave, he knew he did. He just… didn’t want to. Because Ron and Hermione were his two best friends, and he’d always felt safe with them. He didn’t think he could bring himself to go, no matter how much he thought he should.

 

“I’m coming in,” Ron announced, and then didn’t wait for Harry to respond before entering the room. He had a plate of food in his hand, some of Harry’s favorites, and didn’t seem like he was inclined to take no for an answer.

 

Harry sighed and drew his legs further up on the bed, curling in on himself. “I’m not hungry,” he said again. “And I just want to be alone.”

 

“I know you do,” Ron said. “And I’d be okay leaving you alone, because I know that you’re going through so much right now, but Hermione and I are worried that you’re not eating enough, and that you’re going to make yourself sick. Can’t you at least try to eat?” When Ron stared at him with honest hope in his eyes, Harry found that it was almost impossible to remain stubborn. 

 

Especially when his stomach did growl at the sight of the food. “Fine,” he muttered. He took the plate of food and started to eat, though he did so begrudgingly. It was very good, and his stomach was happy with him for actually putting something in it.

 

“Can I sit with you for a bit?” Ron asked, once Harry had finished about half of the food and handed the plate back. “It’s just that Hermione’s brought work back home with her, and it’s always easier for her to focus when I’m not underfoot.”

 

Harry thought that he should protest, that he should suggest that Ron should go wherever it was that he normally went when Hermione brought work home with her, but he didn’t have it in him. Instead, he just nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and offered Ron a tentative smile.

 

He ignored the warmth that bloomed in his heart when Ron smiled back, and told himself that he would tell Ron and Hermione both that he was leaving tomorrow. After just one more night feeling safe, and warm. He would find somewhere else to go.

 

Tomorrow. He could have one more night.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

The next day, around four o’clock, Harry made himself get up and take a quick shower in the attached bathroom. He made himself get dressed, because the conversation he knew he needed to have would go so much better if he was dressed, and clean, and looked like he might actually be able to handle himself. And then he made himself leave the room.

 

Only to find himself face to face with Molly Weasley, who was sitting in Crookshanks’ chair, reading quietly, a cup of tea on the table in front of her.

 

“Molly,” Harry said, his voice only shaking a little bit. He headed further into the room, not wanting to flee, but more than a little terrified.

 

Molly’s head jerked up at the sound of her name, and at the sight of Harry, her face fell. “Oh, Harry,” she breathed, and before Harry could even respond to that, she was up and hugging him, her embrace warm and strong and very, very uncomfortable.

 

He held himself stiff in her arms, not entirely sure how he was supposed to react, and unable to bring himself to hug her. Even though she’d probably be okay with that. He tried to make himself, but he couldn’t quite make his arms move like that. He hadn’t seen her in months, not since he’d moved in with Ginny really, and he was almost sure that she had to be furious that he’d had her daughter arrested, and what if he’d lost the Weasleys on top of everything…

 

She let him go before he could panic too much, and when she looked at him, her eyes were damp with tears. “Oh, Harry,” she breathed again. “Look at you. Look at how…” She stopped and took a step back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “What Ginny did to you…” She drew in a shuddering breath and stopped once more.

 

“It’s okay,” Harry said, a bit hesitantly. He didn’t know what else to say.

 

“It is not,” she said, clearly indignant. “When I think about the things she must have done to you, what she must have said, Harry, it makes my blood boil. To think of you, helpless there with her…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry that we weren’t there for you. That we didn’t realize something was wrong, that we didn’t get her help, get you out of there, that we didn’t…” She stopped talking and shook her head again.

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Harry tried. It couldn’t be her fault. It wasn’t his either, he knew that. At least, he knew that everyone thought that. If he’d tried harder at his relationship with Ginny, if he hadn’t been so in love with her brother, maybe…

 

“Well, it wasn’t yours either,” Molly said sharply. “Harry, can I come and visit you every now and again? Please? I’d like the chance to see you more.”

 

Harry tried to swallow around the lump that was forming in his throat. She still wanted to see him? He didn’t… he’d thought… The room got blurry, and he knew that his eyes were welling up with tears. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy to know that Molly still wanted to see him, but… he didn’t know why he was crying.

 

He hated crying, and it seemed to be happening more often than not these days.

 

Ron appeared from out of nowhere, but probably actually from the kitchen, and put a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Come on, mate, why don’t we sit for a bit?” he asked, his words careful.

 

When Harry nodded, he was steered to the couch, where Ron sat and pulled Harry close to him. His glasses were taken from him, and Harry gratefully buried his face in Ron’s shoulder and let the tears fall.

 

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” he heard Molly say.

 

“I don’t think you did,” Ron responded. “I think he’s just overwhelmed.” Harry tried to ignore the way that his fingers tangled in Harry’s hair, the way that they stroked and soothed, but it was very nice.

 

He really had to leave their apartment, as soon as he could. This was getting dangerous.

 

Eventually, the tears stopped, and Harry drew in a shaking breath. “Sorry,” he muttered, but didn’t move away from Ron. He didn’t have it in him to do so, and that was why he needed to leave. Not because of his feelings, but because he couldn’t make himself be normal around him anymore.

 

“It’s okay,” Molly said immediately. “Are you okay?”

 

Harry nodded. “I’d like to see you more,” he said. “If you don’t mind me being a wreck right now.”

 

“I think you’re entitled to it,” Molly said, the words gently teasing. A gentle hand that wasn’t Ron’s touched Harry’s hair, then pulled back slowly. “I think I’ll be going now, but since I have permission to check on you, Harry, I’ll be back soon. I’ll let Arthur know that you’re doing as well as can be expected, if that’s okay with you.”

 

Harry nodded, but still didn’t move to pull away from Ron, and Ron didn’t make him. He heard her speak into the Floo, and then the room was silent.

 

“You okay?” Ron asked quietly. He didn’t push Harry back, and continued to let his fingers tangle in Harry’s hair.

 

“‘m good,” Harry mumbled. His eyes drifted closed, but he didn’t fall asleep. “When’s Hermione coming home?” he asked.

 

“Around six,” Ron responded. “She doesn’t normally get home any sooner than that, and often does a bit later. But she said she’d try to be home on time tonight.” There was a long silence, then Ron asked, “Why?”

 

“Need to talk to both of you,” Harry said. And then, before Ron could press him for more information, he added, “At the same time, please.” He didn’t think he’d have the strength to have the argument that he was sure would come twice. He wasn’t even sure he could argue successfully once, truthfully.

 

But he had to try, before he ruined everything.

 

“Okay,” Ron said.

 

They sat there in silence, and Harry soaked up Ron’s presence, and tried not to think too hard about how lonely he’d be when he left them after dinner.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

He should have retreated into his room as soon as he knew that Hermione wasn’t going to be there for several hours, but Harry felt like he had little in the way of emotional fortitude left. He couldn’t bring himself to leave the safety of Ron’s arms, the warmth of them. And Ron wasn’t complaining either, so it wasn’t like he was misusing their friendship.

 

That’s what he told himself, anyway. It didn’t help get rid of the guilty feelings that welled within him. He tried to ignore them, but it wasn’t particularly easy.

 

Eventually, he went to pull back. He’d taken enough advantage of Ron’s kindness. “I should go back to my room,” he muttered, but didn’t actually move to stand up.

 

Ron, who had let him go as soon as he’d moved, frowned at him. “You don’t have to,” he pointed out. He touched Harry gently on the shoulder. “I was comfortable. And besides, Hermione’s going to be home in a few minutes at this point.”

 

Harry hadn’t even realized so much time was passing. He wrestled with himself briefly, then sighed and gave in, cuddling up against Ron once more. As Ron had said, it was only a few minutes before the Floo roared to life and Hermione stepped out, brushing soot off of herself neatly.

 

She smiled at the sight of Harry and Ron snuggled together on the couch. “You two look comfy,” she said, and flopped down on Ron’s other side with a sigh. She started to take off her shoes, wriggling her toes once they were freed.

 

Now that she was there, Harry knew that he had no excuse not to start talking. Still, it was difficult, and he didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat, catching both of their attention, and drew in a deep breath. “I think that it’s time that I leave,” he said, his voice catching on a few of the words.

 

“Absolutely not,” Hermione said immediately.

 

“Oh, Harry, no,” Ron said, at the same time that Hermione was speaking.

 

Harry honestly hadn’t expected that response, although he supposed he should have. It wasn’t like he was acting like he was completely ready to stand on his own, not with the way that he was shamefully taking advantage of Ron’s ignorance and snuggling with him every chance he got.

 

He forced himself to pull back, and got to his feet. He moved over to Crookshanks’ chair, dislodging the grumpy cat, who growled at him for the insult. He settled in, tucking his feet up under himself. “I really do think that it’s time to start standing on my own,” he said, his voice only shaking slightly. That was good, right? Nice and firm, exactly the way he needed to sound.

 

“Harry, you don’t need to leave,” Hermione tried. She kept her voice even, but Harry knew what she looked like when she was panicking, and he was pretty sure that she was doing it. “I don’t know why you suddenly think that you need to be able to stand on your own, but Ron and I are here for you for as long as you need, no matter what you need.”

 

Harry shook his head, and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. It wasn’t like he could say that they wouldn’t be there for him if they knew the truth, because then they would ask him about it, and that would be the worst possible outcome of this entire conversation. He looked down at his hands, which were twisting in his lap, instead. “I just think it’s time to go,” he said, his voice much less firm.

 

“While Hermione and I would let you go if you really wanted to, I think it’s pretty clear that you don’t,” Ron said, his voice soft and coaxing. 

 

Harry jumped when he came into view, kneeling on the ground in front of him. He opened his mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come out.

 

Ron took his hands, his touch as gentle as it always was. “We want you to stay,” Ron continued, his hands tightening ever so slightly on Harry’s when Harry didn’t protest. “Hermione and I love having you here, knowing that you’re safe with us. We’re happy to have you, for as long as you need to be here with us.”

 

“You shouldn't be,” Harry gasped out around the lump that was rapidly forming in his throat. He tried to blink back the tears that wanted to fall, again, and found only limited success. “You should hate me!”

 

“We could never!” Hermione exclaimed, clearly horrified. “Harry, of all the things we could ever feel for you, hatred is not and has never been one of them. Why would you say that?”

 

“Because of the way I feel about Ron!” The words, broken and defeated, slipped out before Harry could stop them, and once they were out, he found that he couldn’t stop talking. “Because I’ve loved him, you, for years, and even though you were with Hermione, I couldn’t make myself stop. That’s why Ginny made me stop coming around, because she was uncomfortable about the way I felt, and I—”

 

He cut off and drew in a shuddering breath. Ron’s eyes were wide with shock and, unless Harry was very mistaken, disgust. He looked up to find that Hermione was just as stunned, sitting there with her mouth dropped open in a clear expression of shock.

 

He stumbled to his feet, his knees barely wanting to hold him. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, and backed up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that, Merlin, I’m sorry.” He turned and headed straight for the Floo, hoping to escape before the situation got any worse.

 

This wasn’t how he’d wanted this to go.

 

Before he could reach for a pinch of powder, his hand was caught and he was spun around, then pulled into a warm embrace. “We know,” Ron breathed into his ear, his arms tight around Harry. “We’ve known for a long time. We were both shocked because I don’t think either of us ever expected that you would admit it.”

 

Harry let out a small, confused sound. “You knew?” he asked, his heart rising into his throat. They’d known, and Ron had still held him so close, had still spent the night with him in the same bed? Maybe they hadn’t known then? “I don’t…” He looked at Hermione. “I don’t understand,” he said, the words as much of a plea as a statement.

 

“It’s okay,” she said softly. She smiled at Harry, all the surprise gone from her face. “We can all talk about this, if you’d like, over dinner.”

 

Harry thought that he probably would like, because his head was spinning and he felt like the world didn’t make sense anymore. He nodded his agreement, and let himself rest a little more heavily against Ron, who just held him a little bit closer.

 

“Harry,” Ron said, after a silent moment.

 

“Yes?” Harry looked at Ron, then had to look away because there was an expression in his eyes that Harry didn’t quite understand. It was warm, and welcoming, and there was something to it that made his heart beat faster than it already was, which he hadn’t thought was possible.

 

“I’d like very much to kiss you right now,” Ron said softly.

 

Harry let out a squeak that he couldn’t quite hold back and glanced at Hermione, who was sitting right there, and couldn’t possibly be okay with… but she was nodding.

 

“If you want,” she said gently. “It’s okay.”

 

And Harry had once been very strong, and very brave, but he wasn’t quite that person anymore. He didn’t have the strength to resist when all he’d ever wanted was to kiss Ron, and it was being offered to him. “Please?” he asked, his voice very small.

 

Ron’s lips, when they touched his own, were just about exactly as Harry had imagined. They were warm, and soft, and slightly chapped, and the kiss was gentle and sweet. Harry still didn’t quite understand what was going on, but the kiss was, perhaps, the most magical thing he’d ever felt in his life.

 

And that included when he’d first arrived at Hogwarts. What in the world was he going to do about that?

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Dinner was quiet, not that Harry had really expected anything else. They sat at Ron and Hermione’s small dining room table, Ron in between them, and ate the pizza that Hermione had ordered for them. Harry didn’t eat too much, but nobody seemed to think that he was going to.

 

Once the food was gone, Harry didn’t know quite what to do with himself. Normally, this was when they would go sit on the couch together, but now that he’d… that he’d… kissed Ron, that didn’t seem like the best idea. What if he wanted more?

 

Harry was jerked from his thoughts by a warm hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” Ron said softly, in the tone of someone who’d been speaking to him for a while. Ginny hated it when Harry spaced out like that, but Ron never seemed offended.

 

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled, and let himself be led out to the living room. Then he was pushed down on one end of the couch, and Ron settled between him and Hermione, just like he always did. “I didn’t think—”

 

“We know,” Hermione interrupted, her voice warm. “You thought we’d be angry with you because of your feelings for Ron, but Harry, we never could have been. How could I be upset that you love the man I love as much as I do?”

 

When Hermione said it like that, Harry thought that maybe it made sense. Still… “You’re not… I don’t know, you don’t think that I’m going to try and steal him away?”

 

“He might be able to, you know,” Ron said.

 

“He probably could,” Hermione shot back. “Maybe I wouldn’t fight so hard to keep you,” she added, her voice softening in jest. “But in all seriousness, Harry, I know that you would never do that.”

 

“Not intentionally,” Harry whispered. He couldn’t quite stop himself from leaning on Ron anyway, but as soon as his head touched Ron’s shoulder, he realized what he was doing and jerked away.

 

Or tried to. Ron’s arm was around his shoulders, holding him in place. “It’s okay,” Ron said quickly, the words tripping out of his mouth. “That’s what Hermione and I wanted to talk to you about. This is okay, Harry. You can cuddle with me all you want to.”

 

“But we’re not…” Harry stopped. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he wasn’t going to complain if Hermione and Ron were both okay with him cuddling with Ron, even though they knew about how he felt about him.

 

“We’re trying to tell you that it would be okay if you were,” Hermione said, her voice soft. She reached out to Harry and gently brushed a hand over his hair. It was a barely-there touch, and it was still enough to make Harry flinch. “I’d be okay with it if you and Ron were dating, as long as you’re okay with Ron and I being in a relationship, too.”

 

“Oh,” Harry breathed, and looked up at Hermione. “I didn’t…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I didn’t think that—” He stopped again and breathed in a few times, then let himself relax. “You know that I don’t… I don’t think that I—” He bit his lip. He couldn’t force the words out.

 

Hermione didn’t make him. “You’re not interested in me like that,” she said easily. “And you probably never will be. And Harry, that’s okay. If you change your mind somewhere down the line, we can revisit that, but I don’t want you to think that I’m only okay with you being with Ron if you’re also potentially going to be with me later.”

 

“Oh,” Harry said again, his voice small. He glanced at Ron, a bit shyly, and found that Ron was smiling down at him.

 

“I think I have enough of a heart to keep two people in it,” Ron said softly. He pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Harry’s forehead, then pulled back. “But there is a catch to this.”

 

Harry tensed; he couldn’t help it. “What is it?”

 

“This is as far as I’m comfortable going for now,” Ron said. He brushed Harry’s hair back from his face, the touch still gentle. “Because I know that you’re in a fragile place. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

 

Harry opened his mouth to protest that Ron couldn’t possibly, then stopped. If he were going to be completely honest, he didn’t think he was any more comfortable than Ron moving past just this right away. “That seems fair,” he said instead.

 

“Good,” Hermione said. “Then, Harry, do you think you might agree to see a Mind Healer? We know that you might think that you don’t have to, but—”

 

“I could start seeing Alex again,” Harry interrupted. He ducked his head. “I started seeing him when I was… Ginny wanted… Anyway, I was seeing him, but then I stopped because I didn’t think he was helping, but maybe he was and I just didn’t realize it because everything else was so awful.”

 

“If you liked him, then I think that’s a good idea,” Ron murmured. He pulled Harry close, his arm tightening ever so slightly around Harry’s shoulder. 

 

“I was originally seeing him because I wanted to try and figure out if I’d be an okay father, once I got past all my issues with the Dursleys and everything,” Harry babbled. “But now that I know that I’m going to have to raise… to raise a… I think it would be good to go back and see him anyway, because now there isn’t another option.”

 

“There might be,” Hermione said, and the words washed over Harry like the most soothing potion he’d ever taken. “I don’t know for sure, but I’ve found something that might be promising. I’m still looking into it, but I can stop if you want—”

 

“No!” Harry sagged against Ron, all of the tension draining from him. Hermione was looking, and if there was a solution to be found, she would find it. “Please, no, keep looking. I don’t wish the baby any harm, but I don’t want… I don’t think I ever want…”

 

“I’ll keep looking, then,” Hermione said. She patted Harry’s hand gently, then cast a quick  _ tempus. _ She stood and stretched. “And now, I’m going to go take a bath and get ready for bed. You two behave, okay?”

 

Harry laughed, the sound a little choked.

 

“As much as I ever behave,” Ron said cheerfully. He tugged Hermione into a light kiss, and then she left them alone.

 

Harry wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what, and wasn’t even really sure that he wanted to say anything at all. Ron didn’t make him try to talk, either, but instead just held him close and ran gentle fingers through Harry’s hair. It was, perhaps, the nicest evening Harry could ever remember, and when he went to bed that night, it was with a smile on his face and the warmth of Ron’s lips on his fresh in his memories and lingering on his skin.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“I’m so glad that you came back to see me,” Alex said quietly at the start of their first session after Harry’s abrupt departure. “While ethics demanded that I not contact you, I admit that I was worried about you.”

 

Harry looked down at his hands. “I… thanks,” he muttered.

 

What followed wasn’t particularly easy, but Harry forced himself through it. He told Alex about Ginny's escalating behavior, about waking up to her… on top of him, about running, and that she was pregnant, and about Ron’s relationship with him, and his relationship with Hermione, and Harry’s own relationship with Hermione, platonic though it was. His voice shook through most of it, and he had a lot of trouble getting some of it out, but once it was out, he felt curiously lighter.

 

That didn’t change the fact that he felt raw for the next few weeks, or the fact that his nightmares worsened in intensity once more. There were times when he could barely stand to have Ron touching him, and times when he actively fled at the sight of Hermione, but the difference was that they honored those boundaries he set. And when he was ready, neither Ron nor Hermione punished him for his actions in the midst of his panic and his fear.

 

They stayed with him, supporting him, something that Harry had never known. And, eventually, as the long weeks wore on, Harry’s difficulties after each session grew less and less, until he was able to cuddle up to Ron immediately after, and talk to him about how things went without stuttering and stammering and dropping into awkward silence.

 

It felt like it took forever, but that was okay. Harry was starting to realize that forever wasn’t a terrible thing.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

Two months after he’d started seeing Alex once more, Harry was cuddled up with Ron on the couch after a long session. They’d run over, but Alex had been appalled by Harry’s treatment at Hogwarts, and Harry had wanted to get the worst of it over with. Still, he hadn’t even made it to Umbridge, which meant he knew that their next session was going to likely be even worse.

 

“I’m thinking about not going back to the Aurors,” Ron said quietly, lying on his back with his head propped up on the arm of the couch.

 

Harry, cuddled up on top of him, let out an inquiring hum. “Why?” he asked. He shifted so that he could look Ron in the eyes without having to crane his neck.

 

“It’s exhausting,” Ron said. “And I feel like maybe I’m burnt out. I don’t think I’ve felt better in years since I started staying home with you.”

 

“That could be the company,” Hermione said, entering the room. She’d taken a half day at work that day, and had been taking a long bath so that she could relax a bit, herself. “Harry’s pretty easy to spend time with, especially when the two of you snuggle like that.”

 

Harry smiled shyly at her. “You want me to move?” he offered. He shifted in preparation for doing so.

 

Hermione just laughed and shook her head. “If I lie down now, I’ll wind up napping, and that would wreck my sleep schedule. So, even though your offer was very kind, I think I’d better not.”

 

Harry hummed his agreement and shifted in Ron’s arms. “What do you think you would do if you didn’t go back to the Aurors?”

 

Ron shrugged. “Don’t know,” he replied. “It’s just a thought I’ve been having.” He hesitated, then said, “I mean, I could always see if George needs help in the shop. He’s been pretty swamped lately, and I think it’s a bit lonely for him, you know, without Fred.”

 

“That would be a good idea,” Hermione said. She smiled, the expression bright. “It’s not like we really need your salary with the Aurors. I’m making more than enough, so you could drop down to part time work for a while, or whatever George has in mind for you.”

 

“If money were a problem, you know that I can help, too,” Harry said. The words slipped out before he could stop them, and then he flushed and hid his face in Ron’s shoulder. It wasn’t like they didn’t know how wealthy he was, but somehow it felt like bragging to bring it up.

 

“Of course you could,” Ron murmured. His lips brushed against Harry’s forehead, the touch of them gentle. “Maybe you should take us all on vacation sometime.”

 

Harry laughed. “Maybe,” he agreed. That would be nice, travelling with the three of them when they weren’t on the run trying to hunt down Horcruxes.

 

The room fell silent, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. Rather, it was comfortable, and warm, and Harry found himself drifting a bit, almost asleep. Long sessions with Alex were generally exhausting, and this one had been worse than the others. And Alex had brought an idea up that Harry wasn’t quite comfortable with, but also couldn’t deny was a good idea.

 

“Alex wants me to start getting out of the house more,” he mumbled, the words slow and reluctant. He didn’t want to leave the house; he was more than happy to stay in the house. But he also knew that Alex was probably right about leaving it every now and again.

 

“He’s probably not wrong,” Hermione responded. She stood up and patted Harry on the head, her touch gentle. “Do you think maybe working with Ron at the shop might be a good way for you to get out more often?”

 

“We don’t even know if George wants help,” Ron pointed out. “Not that I’m saying it’s a bad idea or anything, because I’m not, I’m just saying we’re not sure what George wants right now.”

 

“If George is okay with it,” Harry said finally. “I don’t want to put any pressure on him or anything. And it’s not like I need him to pay me, so it wouldn’t be any kind of financial burden on him.”

 

“George might want to pay you anyway, you know,” Hermione said, smiling a little at him. “You know how proud those Weasleys can be.”

 

“Damn right,” Ron muttered. He pushed lightly on Harry’s shoulders and, when Harry shifted back obediently, sat up with a groan. “What time is it, anyway?”

 

“Time for whoever’s on dinner duty to start thinking about what they’re feeding us tonight,” Hermione shot back, her eyes twinkling.

 

“Chinese sounds good, doesn’t it?” Ron asked, before sliding off the couch and wandering into the kitchen. “Because I’m not cooking tonight; the day has been far too lazy for me to ruin it with actual work.”

 

Harry laughed at him, and Hermione joined him on the couch. Once, before he’d started working with Alex, he wouldn’t have been able to tolerate her being so close to him, but this wasn’t so bad. Especially when she laughed with him, like they were sharing a secret together.

 

Sometimes, in moments like that one, Harry started to feel as though maybe things really could be okay, even if he did wind up having to raise a child, the thought of which still terrified him. Merlin, he hoped that it didn’t happen. But if it did, with Ron and Hermione supporting him, he thought that maybe it could work.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“You’re kidding, right?” George asked, incredulous, his eyes lighting up. “Yes, of course I want you both to come work with me! Just think of the chaos we three could cause. We’d be like… like… who were those Muggle heroes? The Three Musketeers?”

 

Harry laughed, unable to help himself. “More like the three stooges,” he muttered, and was rewarded with grins from both of the Weasleys in the room with him. “We really wouldn’t be a burden or anything?”

 

George waved the words off. “Not at all,” he said quickly. “The shop is doing great. In fact, I’ve been looking into hiring some full time assistants, so having the two of you volunteer is just about perfect.”

 

“Harry’s not sure if he wants to work full time,” Ron said, and Harry was very grateful that he’d spoken up. “And he probably isn’t ready to work in the front of the shop yet. But if you have some stuff in the back for him to do, that would be great.”

 

George studied Harry, his expression intent. “Yeah,” he said, some of his earlier exuberance fading. “Yeah, of course.” Then he grinned, the expression bright. “Harry can put his Marauders roots to the test and help me in the lab, and in the stock room if he’s not feeling adventurous.”

 

Harry, who had opened his mouth to protest the idea of putting him anywhere near a lab after his abysmal time in Snape’s class, relaxed a little at the idea of working in the stockroom. “Thanks, George,” he said, quietly sincere.

 

George’s expression softened. “Well, anything for my favorite little brother,” he teased, winking at Harry.

 

“Oi!” Ron protested. “Just what the hell am I, then?”

 

George shrugged. “Not the little brother who gave me and Fred money to kickstart the business, that’s for sure.”

 

“Wow,” Ron said, drawing out the word. “This is the thanks I get for spending so many years as your early test subject. Thrown over in favor of money, I see how it is.”

 

If he hadn’t been laughing as he’d said it, Harry would have worried that Ron had meant what he was saying. As it was, he found himself laughing at the performance, genuinely amused as Ron pouted at George, and George grew progressively more dismissive, both of them laughing the entire time.

 

Working at the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was certainly never going to boring, and definitely not in the same way that the Aurors had never been. Harry was absolutely okay with that.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

“How’s the job with George and Ron working out?” Alex asked, midway through their session.

 

Harry had been working for a few months now, and he thought it was going well. “Good,” he said quietly. “I stay in the back, mostly, because I still get overwhelmed around large numbers of people. But this week I tried to go out and work the front a little bit.”

 

“And how did that go?” Alex prodded. 

 

Harry laughed a little and fidgeted with his robes. “It wasn’t awful,” he said quietly. “But it wasn’t exactly a ton of fun. I did okay, but I could only manage about an hour before I had to go back into the back. It got overwhelming.”

 

“And that’s okay,” Alex said. “What’s important is that you tried, and you did it. I think that’s great to hear.”

 

“I never used to have trouble with it,” Harry muttered. He slouched in his chair, and continued to toy with the sleeves of his robes.

 

“You aren’t who you were ten years ago, and that’s okay,” Alex said, sounding like it was the first time he’d said it rather than the thousandth. Harry wondered if he ever got tired of repeating those words. “You aren’t even the same person you were a few months ago, and Harry, I think that’s wonderful. You’re doing so much better than you give yourself credit for.”

 

Harry didn’t say anything out loud, but he did flush a little bit.

 

Alex laughed and changed the subject, not that his new choice was any better for Harry. “And how are you feeling about the coming birth?”

 

Harry flinched. They were just about a month out. Ginny would be giving birth soon, and then she would be dead, and Harry would be stuck trying to raise the child. “I keep trying not to think about it,” he muttered. “I know that’s bad, because the baby is coming, but I just…” He shuddered. “I can’t, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

 

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Alex said quietly. “And Harry, you know that not thinking about it isn’t going to stop the baby from coming. You can’t keep hoping that this will just go away.”

 

“Yes I can,” Harry said stubbornly. And then he dipped his head in acknowledgment, because he knew that Alex was actually right. “Of course I can’t,” he muttered. “I just… haven’t I given enough to the wizarding world? Why should I be forced to raise a child that I don’t want just because there’s no such thing as a magical orphanage?”

 

Alex didn’t answer for a slong, silent minute. Then, quietly, he said, “I understand how frustrated you are, but Harry, these are the facts of the world we live in today. While there might be legislation that can be passed allowing you to give up the child later, there’s no guarantee of that happening. So don’t you think it would be best to accept that this is coming?”

 

“Of course it would,” Harry snapped. Then he winced. “Sorry.”

 

“You’re allowed to be angry with me,” Alex replied. He never accepted Harry’s apologies when he snapped. “How about a change in subject for now? How are things going with Ron?”

 

Harry smiled, the expression coming to his face in spite of his bad mood. “They’re going well,” he said quietly, still staring down at his hands. “Really well. We haven’t… I mean, you know, still, but I don’t think I’ll want that for a long time.” He didn’t know when he would, but he hadn’t wanted sexual content since long before Ginny had raped him. Maybe one day.

 

Hopefully one day, if he was being honest with himself. He wanted to be with Ron like that, eventually. Just… probably not any time soon.

 

“And Ron hasn’t put any pressure on you?” Alex asked.

 

Harry looked up, his eyes wide. “No,” he said quickly. “He’s never… he’s always perfectly okay with my limits. He doesn’t push at all.” If Harry didn’t know better, if Ron weren’t so quick to offer him kisses whenever Harry asked, if Ron didn’t have to stop sometimes and leave the room, he might have thought that Ron didn’t want him at all.

 

“Good,” Alex said. “I want you to remember that you don’t ever have to be ready, Harry. I know that you want to be, but remember not to rush yourself.”

 

“I won’t,” Harry said. He’d tried, once. It hadn’t ended well, and Ron had been very understanding, and very gentle with Harry when he’d thrown up in the bathroom after they’d stopped. “I promise I won’t push myself to go past my comfort zone. Not in this.”

 

“Very good,” Alex said. He checked the time, then cleared his throat. “So. Back to the conversation that I know you hate…”   
  


Harry groaned, and prepared himself for talking about the baby, whose arrival was imminent, and who he still didn’t want, and didn’t think that he would ever want. And what kind of monster did that make him, to hate a baby that hadn’t even been born yet? Maybe Alex could answer that question, if Harry could only bring himself to pose it to him.

 

ooOOooOOoo

 

One day, when Ron was at the shop and Harry wasn’t, Hermione breezed back into the house far before her work was supposed to be over. She was beaming at Harry, who was quite confused. She didn’t normally come home that early, even on the rare occasion she could be coaxed into taking a half day.

 

“Come get lunch with me,” Hermione said, her eyes bright.

 

Harry wondered what was going on. Was she going to ask him to… to stop what he was doing with Ron? No, that didn’t make sense. Why would she be happy about that?

 

“Okay,” he said slowly, and marked his place in his book. “Do I need to get into wizarding clothes?”

 

“Muggle is fine,” Hermione said. “We’ll go to the cafe down the street. I know you like it there.”

 

Harry relaxed ever so slightly. She wasn’t cruel. She wouldn’t take him to somewhere he liked to give him bad news. She wasn’t like Ginny, who probably would have delighted in ruining something he enjoyed. “Okay,” he said quietly, and grabbed his coat. He offered her a shy smile, and was glad when she returned it.

 

The walk to the cafe was short, and Hermione practically skipped the entire time. When they got there, Harry was surprised to find that Ron had a table waiting already, because he was supposed to be working the entire day.

 

Harry opened his mouth, but then closed it and shook his head. He settled in next to Ron, and Hermione took the other side of the table. She reached out for Ron’s hand, and he took it, while at the same time curling his fingers around Harry’s hand at his side.

 

“So,” Ron said, once they’d given their orders to the waitress. “You said you had good news for Harry.”

 

Harry blinked and sat up a little bit. She hadn’t told him that. “What kind of good news?” he asked, a little wary. Not that he thought that Hermione would lie about something being good news.

 

“I’ve found a loophole in the law that would require you to raise the baby,” Hermione replied, beaming at him. “It’s only been used once before, and that was back in the thirteen hundreds, so it took a lot of digging to find. But, essentially, any blood relative of the baby can take it in.”

 

Harry froze, his eyes widening. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? “Really?” he asked, his voice shaking. He couldn’t imagine that it would be something so… so… But it wasn’t simple, was it? He didn’t have any living blood relatives. Then again, Ginny did. Still... “What’s the catch?”

 

Hermione hesitated. “Alex would have to testify,” she said finally. “In front of the Wizengamot, that raising this child could damage both you and the baby, possibly irreparably. In the thirteen hundreds, it was a priest who did the testifying, but now, Alex would be able to do it. And it might be humiliating for you, because I’m sure that details of your life would come out.”

 

Harry flinched. That would be… awful, really awful. But, on the other hand, as Alex, and Hermione, and Ron, and everyone else involved had drilled into his mind, what had happened wasn’t his fault. He had nothing to be ashamed of. And it wasn’t like the wizarding world ever had made up its mind about him. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’m okay with that.” 

 

“I suspected you would be, if not now, then eventually,” Hermione admitted. “So, as rude as it may have been, I took the liberty of reaching out to Molly and Arthur. I know how much you’ve been dreading this, but I also know that you would have had trouble asking. And, Harry, they’re more than willing to take the baby, but only if you’re sure that you don’t want it. It would be bad for the child to be in a state of flux, so if you think you’re going to change your mind—”

 

“God no,” Harry said quickly, his voice choked. “Please give it to them. Please.” He buried his head in Ron’s shoulder so he could hide the way that tears were welling up in his eyes. “I can’t, Hermione, I really—”

 

“Okay,” she said quickly, soothingly. Her hand touched his own, gentle and light.

 

Ron’s hand moved soothingly along Harry’s back, and he pressed soft kisses to Harry’s forehead. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured. “We’ve got you, and everything’s going to be fine.”

 

For the first time in what felt like forever, Harry knew those words to be true. Molly and Arthur would do a wonderful job raising the child, because they’d raised so many wonderful children before. And maybe he’d be able to stay in the child’s life as an uncle, which was, frankly, all that he thought he could stand, and he wasn’t even entirely sure about that.

 

When he un-buried his face from Ron’s shoulder, his cheeks were slightly damper than they’d been originally, but his smile was bright, and genuine. “Thank you,” he whispered, the words still slightly choked because of the lump in his throat.

 

Hermione just beamed at him. “You don’t need to thank me,” she said. She squeezed his hand. “Ron and I, we love you very much, although in two very different ways. We would have done anything to help, Harry, even if it meant spending hours reading through dusty old tomes searching for a loophole.”

 

Harry laughed. He squeezed her hand in return, and leaned into Ron, and thought that the future looked brighter than it ever had before. He was happy, he was making his way towards being fully healthy, and he was going to spend the rest of his days with the man he loved and with the woman who was a sister to him, neither of whom were inclined to hurt him, or to pressure him in any way for things he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready for.

 

What more could he ask for?


End file.
